


Joke's On You (I Love You)

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:43:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A werewolf, a banshee, and some guy named Stiles walk into a bar. You’ll never guess what happens next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joke's On You (I Love You)

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration of the fact that I survived the ACT for a second time, here's this. Think of it as like a snapshot of a future where Cora, Lydia, and Stiles are in a relationship together and nothing hurts except maybe a toaster.

Actually, if you guessed that one of them said, “Ouch,” you were right. Double points if you guessed Stiles. It’s not because he walked into an honest-to-God bar though, not like that joke with the pirate. He’s in rubbing his arm and looking offended because Cora punched him.

He’d said, “A werewolf, a banshee, and some guy named Stiles walk into a bar. You’ll never guess what happens next,” and then he’d grinned at Cora and Lydia.

Lydia had rolled her eyes, but Cora has said, “Fuck the punchline, Stilinski, I’m punching you if you get any lamer.”

“He owns a tee shirt that says, ‘I mustache you a question,’” Lydia had pointed out. “He can’t get any lamer.”

Cora conceded the point, and that’s how Stiles ends up mumbling about how his life had become like, the opposite of animal abuse or some shit as he slides onto a barstool. “I think it’s technically a public service,” Lydia corrects with a smug smile.

“Funny,” Stiles says. “Keep laughing. You wander around the kitchen in my mustache tee shirt and no pants, so if anyone’s lame it’s you.”

“You own hipster glasses,” Cora says like she’s winning the argument with this comment. “And you wear them. With plaid. In public.”

“You Instagram your coffee, Cora.” Lydia shakes her head. “And you caption the pictures with Taylor Swift lyrics.”

“I’d leave both of you for Taylor Swift,” Cora informs them, and then, “I bet her toaster is in one piece, at least.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles says, throwing his hands in the air and managing to knock over some guy’s drink. “The toaster wasn’t—sorry dude—my fault!”

“You literally threw it at a ghost, Stiles,” says Lydia. “What did you think was going to happen?”

They replace the guy’s drink, and he goes back to glowering at the football game on the TV above the bar. “I thought it might distract it?” Stiles offers.

“Stiles, it came through our wall. What part of being able to walk through walls implies not being able to walk through toasters?” Lydia asks.

“You didn’t even use the toaster,” he protests.

“I did!” Cora interjects. “That toaster is the only reason I haven’t starved.”

“I’m telling the microwave you said that,” Stiles says. 

“It’s a kitchen appliance, Stiles, it doesn’t care,” Lydia sighs.

He grins triumphantly. “By that logic— the logic of our own Lydia Martin I might add— the toaster doesn’t care that it’s broken.”

“It’s me that cares the toaster is broken,” Cora argues. “Not the toaster itself.”

“I can’t believe you’re all old enough to drink and still having this kind of conversation,” the bartender interjects, sliding their fancy margaritas to them. “Buy another goddamn toaster, Christ.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying all along!” Lydia proclaims, triumphant.

“Can you believe her?” Stiles says to Cora, jerking a thumb at Lydia. “Buy a new toaster, she says.”

“I already have,” Cora shrugs. “I keep it at Derek’s and far away from you.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Lydia says. “We’re living together, Cora. That means sharing posessions.”

“The toaster is living at Derek’s though,” Cora points out. 

“Yeah, but what if I want toast?” Stiles interrupts. “What if I want to have a Poptart?”

“Poptarts are bad for you,” Lydia says. 

“Love hurts,” Stiles shrugs. “I’m willing to risk it.”

“Sure,” Lydia says. “But I’m telling your father and you know he only eats salads because he thinks you’re suffering too.”

She and Cora laugh at the face he makes. Sometimes their life is more like a Supernatural episode than a romantic comedy, but they can still laugh. Privately, they’re all pretty sure that’s what counts.


End file.
